0 comments/ 93828 views/ 5 favorites Better Late Than Never Ch. 1 By: Salteena “Get down from there you idiot! If that branch snaps, you’ll fall and break your neck!” “Remember when we used to climb up here when we were kids? We thought we could see forever…well, as far as Palmerston North anyway.” I looked out over the rolling Northern Manawatu hills, yep; Palmy was still there. That was in the careless, fearless days. It is donkey’s years since I climbed up here and I am a lot heavier. Just as I have grown, the big old Oregon Pine has put on another four metres above where ten-year-old E. and I, two years older, carved our initials in the trunk. ‘E M’ and ‘R M’ for Esther and Richie McLeod, the letters are still faintly visible just by my hand, although almost overgrown by bark. It looks a long way down to where she is stood on the ground. “All I remember is, you used to make me climb up first so that you could look up my skirt at my knickers…” “Never! I was just making sure that if you slipped I could catch you…” “Ha! Ha! Bloody Ha!” “Why on earth would I have wanted to look at my kid sister’s knickers?” “Not so much of the ‘kid’, buster! I’m only two years behind you!” The branch I was stood on creaked ominously. “Come down Richie, it’s too dangerous…” The branch creaked again, only this time it was more of a loud groan. Hastily, albeit reluctant to admit she was right, I scrambled down to a more solid perch. I looked down into E.’s sparkly green eyes and grinned. Gee, I was over the moon that she was home for a few days, but I was not about to let her know that in a hurry! Overt shows of affection in our family are not ‘the done thing’; a product of Mum’s Calvinistic upbringing in Scotland before Dad married her and brought her out to New Zealand. “Just look at you! Who would think you are a responsible general manager in charge of six farms with a combined value of several million dollars.” Trust my sister to be sensible! She never has been a big life risk-taker, preferring to study food technology at Massey University and then going to work for a big international manufacturer in Auckland, instead of pushing the limits in the farming business. Dad invested wisely, buying up neighbouring farms in our vicinity when they became vacant. When he retired, he put me in charge, so an injury that put me out of action for any length of time could seriously affect the operation. “Thus spoke the city-girl! Loosen up, kiddo, you’re back in the country now!” “Come along Tarzan, you were going to take me over to see the new flock of stud Romneys.” “Slave Driver!” I swung down a few more metres then jumped from where I was, but landed awkwardly, dragging us both in a tangled heap to the grass. E. let out a hoot of laughter, “I told you to be careful, you dork!” I love the sound of my sister’s laughter, and the way she laughs, tossing her hair and closing her eyes. And the way she tilts her head to expose her throat makes her seem so open and vulnerable. I got up on one elbow, looking fondly down at her; at the way her dark hair was swathed on the ground like one of those shampoo commercials on the TV; at the faint dusting of freckles still visible across her snub nose; and at her soft, wide, made-for-kissing lips. “Why would I have wanted to look at your knickers anyway? You were only a little girl.” “And you were a nosy little boy!” “You were never interested in me…” “I watched you peeing a few times while we were out playing and you thought you’d hidden yourself away…fascinating…and once, when we were a bit older, I watched you in the shower relieving something else…are you blushing…?” Feeling the heat rising in my cheeks from the knowledge that she had watched me jacking off, I looked away, down her prone body. E.’s bent knees were raised and clasped tightly together. The skirt of her soft cotton summer dress had fallen down to around the tops of her long slim thighs and she was swaying her bare legs gently from side to side, somewhat like the arm of a metronome. The sun glinted on her downy fine leg hairs. “See…you’re doing it now…!” But she made no effort to cover herself. ‘I’m glad you don’t shave your legs…” I turned back to her and grinned sheepishly, “Your turn to climb the tree…bet you twenty you can’t get half as high as I did.” “Ha! You only want to look up my skirt. Why should I pay you to let you do that? Give me twenty and you can look at my knickers where we are…” “No cash with me…IOU?” “Can you afford the interest…100 percent an hour?” “You really are an Aucklander! No discount for family?” “It’s double ‘cos it is family!” She was laughing, with a fierce, wildness in her eyes that I hadn’t seen in her for years. E. mock spat in her palm and held her hand out for me to shake, “Deal…?” I did the same and took her hand, laughing with her, “So, you’ve gone into the oldest profession as well as usury…Done!” I scooted down so that I was propped on my elbow about level with her waist. E. pulled her dress up almost to her navel. The lacy material of her pants formed a stark contrast with the richly smooth, lightly tanned skin of her belly and thighs. I sucked in my breath in admiration. “Aaaah…white…my favourite colour…” “White isn’t a colour…” “I remember pale yellow with blue teddy-bears…and pink with red rose-buds…” “See, you did look! I must have been about eight when I had those…” “You were eleven…” “Mum never wanted me to grow up…you even used to look up my legs when I wore shorts…” “What do you mean?” “The one time I really remember was when we were on holiday up at Port Jackson…” I remember that vividly as well. E.’s shorts were very short and very close fitting! “I was about…” “Fourteen…” “Right…do you remember when we got caught out by the tide coming in and we had to get over those rocks…?” Did I remember? I can still call up the image of her tight little bum just inches from my face as we climbed! When she had to stretch her leg out wide for her next foothold, I could see up the leg of her shorts and got more than a hint of her podgy sex lips and dark pubic hair where the inner joint of her thigh met the edge of her panties. “You were so close behind me, I could feel your breath on the backs of my legs. I thought you were going to bite my bum!” “No, I certainly didn’t want to bite you…” “Oh…” She sounded disappointed. “I almost kissed you though…on the backs of your legs…right at the top… Moving right along…talking about growing up, does Mum ever say anything about Justine shacking up with you?” “Justin…!” “Oh ok, Justin! It’s a pooftah name anyway…who’s ever heard of a friggin’ Maori called ‘Justin’ for crissakes!” “He’s not a girl…or a poof…” “Good in the sack, eh?” “I have no complaints…Mum just doesn’t speak about it…but you sound as if you disapprove…” “Dad’s not happy, he reckons you’re sleeping with the enemy…” “Because Justin is Maori?” “Nah, because he works for one of the syndicates trying to steal the America’s Cup off us…” “Bloody hell! Justin only crews on a support boat!” “Enough for Dad…” “What about you?” “Just being protective… Oh, bugger! He’s sleeping with my sister …Justin could be ‘sky blue pink with lime green spots’ for all I care…I am ‘anti’ any guy sleeping with you…” “I never thought of you as the jealous type. You don’t have a girlfriend at the moment, do you?” “Not right now…and never anyone meaningful…but like you, I’ve got no complaints about getting my end away…and, yes, a couple of them have been Maori too…” “Nobody special you have your eye on?” “Nah! But, according to Mum, I am an ‘eligible bachelor’ and plenty of the local sheilas have their eye on me…and I suppose you should know…seeing as I am having this fascinating discussion with your knickers…or rather, what’s inside them…I’ve always fancied you to bits…” “God! Now he tells me!” “What does that mean?” “It means I am hosed off with you telling me that after all this time.” “How so…?” “If I’d have really known that when I was intent on losing my cherry…!” “You would have chosen me to do the dirty deed? Your brother…come on!” “You’d have been high on the list. In fact, a prime candidate seeing as all the guys I really fancied weren’t in the least bit interested in me…” “Well, you were a bit flat chested…” “Still am…” I ran a blade of grass down the back of her thigh, making the hairs on both her legs stand up like thousands of little sentries. “Nothing to get too worked up about…” “We’ve been talking about implants…Justin has offered to pay…” “Oh, Lord no! Don’t mutilate yourself like that…and what if they leak after a while…bloody dangerous!” “It’s nice to know you care…I feel so inadequate sometimes…” “You feel inadequate, or he makes you feel that way?” “Hmmmmm…” “I think it’s bloody criminal…the Yanks have got a lot to answer for…the ‘big tits means sexy chick’ culture, I mean. If you’d had a couple more inches up there, those guys you liked would have been slavering at your feet like a pack of horny farm dogs around a bitch on heat! I think Justine needs his head read…” “Justin…!” Just a hint of testiness perhaps? But she was rubbing her thighs together slowly. “Are you going to marry him?” “He hasn’t asked me…” “Hell, I thought you city chicks didn’t bother with that shit nowadays…you want your man, you throw him on his back and twist his nuts until he says ‘yes’…” A long silence from Up North. “He doesn’t touch me…if he did he’d find I go off like a firecracker…” “A lot of chicks with small boobs do…they must be ultra sensitive or something. Have you told him?” “I don’t think it would happen if I told him…spontaneity all gone…” “Anyway, who did you waylay at the crossroads to take your cherry in the end?” “Edward Seymour…” Shocked, I looked up at E.’s face for the first time in many minutes, “Not Teddy Four-Eyes!” “The same…” Teddy Four-Eyes was an overweight blob who wasn’t any good at sports or anything at school except maths and sucking up to the teachers. “Bloody heck! Why him?” “I was getting desperate. I was over sixteen and I was the only virgin left in my class at school!” “But, Teddy Four-Eyes!” “He was gentle and considerate, and as scared as I was. And it was totally boring…but at least I got the job done…” “But, Teddy Four-Eyes…!” “I still see him in Auckland occasionally…all plump and sleek. He’s an investment banker now…drives a big Mercedes…has the obligatory Remuera-blonde wife and two spoiled rat-bag kids. He blushes bright pink whenever we meet…I often wonder if his wife notices…” “Blimey, you really should have asked me…!” “I would have, but you didn’t seem to be all that interested…just curious about my panties. By the way, have you had your fill of looking at them yet? Had all your wildest dreams fulfilled?” “Mmmmm, bit of a disappointment really.” “What…!” “Oh a personal hang-up…you’re wearing one of those panty-liner thingys…I can’t stand them! Has it got wings?” “They are a feminine hygiene aid…” “Bollocks! They’re another thing we should declare war on America for…everything has to be deodorised and sterile…can’t have your women smelling like women…!” E. hoots with laughter again. Her legs open slightly. Wow…even with a panty-liner in place! “Well, it’s true! I read this story on the Internet the other evening…” “What’s this, my big brother looking up dirty stories on the Web and pulling his pud?” “I look for erotica…don’t find much of it though, but lots of b-grade porno scripts…got so pissed off I even wrote a couple of stories myself and sent them in…” “Aaaah, the lonely shepherd cuddles up to his favourite ewe and they compose steamy tales together for the Internet…how sweet!” “Baaaa! But seriously though…this story was about a guy with a lesbian sister who fixed him up to screw with three sheilas for his 30th birthday present…wouldn’t you believe a blonde, a brunette and a redhead! Anyway…they’ve all got big tits, of course, and he spends about three pages sucking them. Then he gets to go down on these three chicks…gives one of them 35 orgasms in ten minutes…yeah right…but not a mention of taste or smell with any of them. I tell you, the Yanks can’t bear the thought…that’s why they invented vaginal deodorants and now these bloody liner things!” “Jeepers Richie! I’ve never heard you so eloquent about anything other than wool prices and stocking rates! Why read that kind of story in the first place?” “Morbid interest…that particular site has a ranking system based on readers’ votes…I wanted to see if the ‘top’ ones were really any good. Anyway, smell is central to sex…go out among a mob of ewes at tupping time and tell me it isn’t! We humans are no different!” “Tell you what…look away for a second…close your eyes…promise?” “Ok…” I heard a faint rustle, then E. saying, “Right! Is that better you grumpy bugger?” She was perfect! The lovely girl had taken that damned pad out of her panties and she looked just right, with the soft cloth outlining her mound and the start of her mysteries. And in the process, E. had pushed her panties down a little way, so that a few strands of dark hair strayed above the waistband. I didn’t ask where she had secreted the offending object! On a sudden impulse, I ducked my head and clasped some of her errant curls between my lips, giving them a gentle tug. “Hey! Down, Tiger!” she exclaimed. In a mock innocent voice, I murmured, “All the way down here…?” and pressed my lips to her panties, right at the fork of her thighs. The expected slap around my ears didn’t eventuate. Instead, after what seemed like a very long pause, I heard her saying faintly, “Richie…stop doing that, please.” I pressed my lips against her again and then withdrew. “The other ridiculous thing about that story was that the guy’s lesbian sister became his cum-slut…” “His what? What on earth is a cum-slut?” “A sheila who eats sperm. He masturbated in front of her and she caught his cum in her mouth and swallowed it…enjoyed doing it…scraped up any bits she missed…” “She’d be the first lesbian in history…” “My thoughts entirely…he never did anything for her…I would have thought any dyke could dig a guy going down on her…but not a thought of that…” “I’m not so sure that a man would even be satisfactory, but I’m no expert…I know a couple of girls who are in a relationship and they talk quite frankly when they’ve had a couple of drinks, but they’ve never said anything about that… A man’s sperm though…definitely vomit country for a lesbian I would think. Maybe that story is so popular because it draws a picture of gorgeous females, even a lezzie, subjugating themselves and servicing the dominant male…?” “That sounds a bit too deep for me…did you know your panties are starting to get a damp patch…? “Now you know why the panty-liner…” “Incontinence…?” “Don’t be a complete prat…you started me off when you said you wanted to kiss the tops of my legs up at Port Jackson…Then there’s you being down there like that…I can feel your voice in my belly…” “I never knew I was a ventril…” “Richie! If you don’t stop talking and start doing something, I’ll soon be climbing that tree without using my hands or my feet…!” So, I started ‘doing something’; pulling the soft cloth down to unveil the damp ringlets; parting her to expose her dark-lipped, richly inner pink, simply magical gash; and lowering my face to meet her urgently lifting abdomen. She tasted and smelled like a woman should. And then we had skyrockets – the kinds of rockets that scream like banshees on the way up and then explode in thousands of stars. Later, back at the home paddock when we separated, she going to the main house and I to my own cottage to wash up before joining our parents for dinner, E. kissed me on the cheek and forgave me the twenty…and the interest. Better Late Than Never Ch. 2 “Nice pad Sis…very nice, and quite a feminine feel to it…” It was six months after E.’s visit home. I was in Auckland at her invitation to go and stay for a few days in her flat after going to the Mystery Creek Agricultural Show, near Hamilton. There had been no repeat of our intimacy in the rest of her stay in the country. Although she did cause our mother to purse her lips in disapproval one evening by throwing her arms around me and giving me a big hug before I left the big house for my cottage for the night. “In case you hadn’t noticed, sweet brother, I am a girl…” “Ah! Is that why your voice is higher than mine is…!” “Dork! Here, this is where you’ll sleep…” The room was small and plainly decorated with most of the floor space taken up by a single bed. One wall was a built-in wardrobe with full-length mirror doors. E. saw me looking, “My room is on the other side of there…” I thought that that was good. At least there would be some sound insulation if she and Justin decided to do some ‘swinging off the chandeliers’ during the night. She took hold of my hand, “Come on…I’ll show you around the rest of the flat.” There wasn’t a lot to see. Her room, about two-and-a-half times the size of mine, dominated by a double bed with a large incongruously pink teddy bear resting its head on a pillow; another mirror-doored clothes closet; tidy; no scattered clothes; womanly scents. The bathroom small, functional, just a shower and hand basin with the toilet hidden behind a sliding door. Open plan kitchen-dining-living room. You have to love the person you are sharing the working area with, because there isn’t a lot of it. The dining and living room furniture expensively modern, but soft edged and comfortable. Flat screen TV on one wall. Small laundry, washer and drier. The postage-stamp patio, with gas BBQ in one corner, faces north over the Mt Eden suburbs to the Waitakeres. It was my sister’s space and she showed her pride in it. “Ummmm, am I allowed to observe…?” “Yeah, it’s tiny…not like the farmhouse at home…” “No, not that…I like it…I see only one toothbrush…no razor, dirty socks or underpants…” “We broke up four months ago…had a terrible row about implants and had been fencing with each other over a couple of other things for some time. Another thing, it offended his macho self-image that I am the owner here. He wanted me to sell up and put the money into a joint property with him, but I said ‘No way!’” “Ahhh…any regrets?” “I cried myself to sleep for a week and then decided it was time to stop playing the maudlin teenager…” “Got a replacement in view?” “Someone does occupy my thoughts, but he is not free…” “Tut, tut! Married man, eh?” “Hopelessly…look, what do you want to do this evening? How about we go down to the village and get some steaks and a bottle of Cabernet? You can do the caveman thing and burn the meat while I make some salad.” “Sounds great to me…” The ‘bottle of Cabernet’ ended up an Auckland-priced Martinborough Vineyards Pinot Noir, which was delicious, as were the steaks. The salads weren’t bad either, although my sister insisted that the comparative excellence of the meat and the salads was the other way around. We finished the wine sitting companionably on the settee listening to a Cassandra Wilson CD played on the Bose Lifestyle hi-fi system that was so small I hadn’t noticed it in my earlier tour. Somehow we ended up with her laid out with her head in my lap and me stroking her hair. You don’t know how hearts burn for love that cannot live yet never dies until you reached each dawn with sleepless nights you don't know what love is. “Why don’t you come home, kiddo?” I asked. “We sure would love to see you more.” “Same answer as Justin got…no way! This is my world, my life…” She sat up abruptly, “You don’t realise just how good I am at what I do, my brother…just because I drive my own Honda Civic and live in a pokey little place like this! I’m not just a grunt; I run the QA Department, here and in Australia! I earn six figures starting with a 2, which is over four times what you get paid, even if you are General Manager. And I am part of the top management team…” “Ok, ok! I get the picture!” I kissed her forehead, “No wonder Justin felt intimidated…” E. thumped her head down in my lap again, only just missing out on damaging me for life, “He wasn’t intimidated, he wanted to be the typical Polynesian male and take charge of the spoils!” “Aha! The picture gets clearer…anyway, this flat isn’t pokey…I like it, I feel comfortable here…” “Then you’ll have to come and see me more often…” She yawned, “I’ll give you a job as General Manager Hair-stroking…” “I accept with gratitude…” “So you should…” She fell asleep, but woke again the instant the CD finished, “C’mon, mister, bedtime! You farmers think you start early, but I have to be at work by 6.00am to take calls from Europe and The States…” “Shoot…!” “The price of power, my love…oh, if you hear the telephone during the night, it’s more of the same…some of the idiots over there can’t tell the time…” Outside my bedroom door, she put her arms around me and snuggled up close, “I’m so glad you came,” she murmured into my chest. She felt so good tucked in there! “Not half as glad as I am,” I told her, kissing the top of her head. “See you in the morning, bro…” She hugged up closer, almost as if she was trying to climb inside me. “Sleep tight, sis…” Wordlessly, she banged her head gently on my chest, then disengaged herself and headed for her room. About ten minutes later, E. opened my bedroom door without knocking. She was wearing silk pyjamas that clung to every curve and line of her body. Her diminutive breasts made hard points in the fine fabric. “I’m finished with the bathroom…Cooooer, nice package!” she exclaimed when she saw me stood there clad in my Underdaks and nothing else. “Not so dusty yerself…” I murmured, looking her up and down with equal appreciation. “I also came to tell you that you’re on tea duty in the ayem…and just one toast please…” She didn’t seem to be able to tear her eyes away from my lower body and the stirring, swelling bulge in my underpants. “Slice of lemon and no sugar…?” “Huh…? Oh yes, that’s right…there’s Olivio…olive oil spread in the ‘fridge’ for the toast…” Time seemed to stretch. I ached to take her in my arms again. Then her mobile shrilled ‘The Ride of the Valkyries’ and the moment was gone. “See what I mean,” she said wryly. When I came out of the bathroom and returned to my room, E. was still sat at the dining table, talking technical gibberish and scribbling on a large notepad. It was a further twenty minutes before I heard her close her bedroom door. There were two more calls before I rose at 5 o’clock, pretty much my normal time, and made Her Ladyship a mug of tea and one toast as ordered. Tousle-haired and sleepy-eyed, E. tossed the edge of her duvet to one side and stretched luxuriously. The top and bottoms of her pyjamas had parted company in the night and now she was making the situation worse, confronting me with an expanse of bare flesh that started just below her breasts and ended just above her pubic hair. My hand shook as I put the mug down on her bedside cabinet, spilling some of the tea on the carpet. “Do you always sleep in just your underpants?” she asked, interestedly eyeing the growing prominence inside my underwear. “Only when I sleep alone…” “Hmmmm…I think we shall have to make you into a eunuch. I can’t have the servants coming in here in the mornings and getting me all flustered…” “Not to mention the servants getting all flustered as well. But, to quote a near and dear relative of mine…’no way!’ I like me just as I am.” I sat on the end of E.’s bed as far away from her as possible. If I hadn’t have done, my man would have poked his head up over the waistband of my Underdaks and said “Good morning” to her. She sat up, resting her back against the padded headboard and, thankfully, covering some of her nudity. “What do you want to do this evening?” she asked, nibbling at the corner of her toast. “I’m a visitor to your city…I have no idea what is on…” “Weeeell, there is a lot more happening here than there is in Palmy! I tell you what though, there is a Hugh Grant movie on that I don’t want to miss. It’s due to finish its run any day now…” “You’re a fan…?” “His diffident charm reminds me of a certain brother of mine when he sets out to be super nice to someone…” “And he’s got a Guid Scawttish name…” “That as well…how about it?” “Yep!” “It’s on at the Berkley over in Mission Bay, can you find your way?” “I’ll manage…” “Right…about seven…and we’ll have a meal afterwards, there’s lots of good restaurants nearby…” “Ok…” “Now, get out of here and let a lady get ready for work…and thanks for the tea…I’ll keep you on…” “Madam is too kind…” We were lucky to get in; the cinema was packed out. The only seats we could score were up against the wall on the right hand side, halfway down the auditorium. My sister took the seat next to the wall. It wasn’t a bad movie. Hugh Grant did a reasonable impression of Hugh Grant, and there were laughs and love scenes - the usual stuff. About half way through I put my arm along the back of E.’s seat and stroked her bare arm with the tips of my fingers. She had changed out of her ‘power dressing’ management gear before leaving work and was wearing a loose, sleeveless cotton shirt over a microscopic mini that caused a few wrenched male necks as we walked along the sidewalk to the movie house entrance. My sister has fabulous long legs! She lifted her hand to scratch her head and my fingers slipped under her arm to encounter the soft warm skin below her armpit. The loose shirt was very loose. E. jumped a little when my fingers first found her; then she settled down again, not attempting to get me to shift my hand. I stroked her gently. For me, Hugh Grant and his antics disappeared into mere background noise. My entire being became focussed on the feel of Her. My fingertips found the side of her breast. She was not wearing a bra. Her breasts are so small she can easily get away with not wearing support, and usually does so, only wearing bras, custom made ones because of her lack of inches, to maintain managerial decorum at work. And to placate our straight-laced mother at home! E. shivered and I sensed the goosebumps rising on her arms. I cupped the underside of her breast in my fingers. She moaned softly under her breath. It was like holding a fledgling baby bird. I could feel E.’s heart fluttering in her chest. I clasped her bullet-hard nipple between my index and middle fingers and tweaked it lightly. My sister was not exaggerating when she told me back at the farm that touching her breasts in the right way made her ‘go off like a firecracker’. She barely suppressed the strangled wail that burst from within her and our whole row of seats shook with the force of her orgasm. She also kicked the back of the seat in front of her violently, causing much stirring and muttering from all around us. “Shhhhhh…!” The middle-aged woman sitting next to me turned and glared at us malevolently. “I leaned my head towards her and whispered, “Sorry! My sister forgot to take her pill…” “What do you mean?” she whispered back. “She gets very anxious in crowded places, which sometimes brings on a minor epileptic fit. She has pills to stop it happening, but she forgot. She’ll be Ok now though, she only has one episode usually…” “Is that why you have your arm around her?” “To make her feel more secure, yes…and to stop her hurting herself.” “Poor girl…such a lovely looking one too. She’s lucky to have a brother like you to look after her…” “Thank you…” I released my grip on E.’s nipple, causing her to ‘go off’ again and making a ‘one episode’ liar out of me. But this time the ‘cause’ was rapidly relayed in whispers, along our row at least. At the end of the film, we all stood as the lights went up and the credits started rolling. The ‘dragon’ next to me, now turned into a kindly, twinkle-eyed woman, took E.’s hand and patted it in a motherly way, “Now, don’t you forget your medicine next time, young lady…” “What was all that about?” my sister asked when the woman had turned and walked away. “I told her that you are a nutter who can’t stand crowds and has epileptic fits…” “Bastard!” she hissed, short-arm jabbing me in the gut with her fist and knocking the wind out of me. “I’ll get you back for that!” “Can I buy you dinner instead?” I gasped in my best, charming, Hugh Grant manner. “Very well then…but be warned, orgasms give me an appetite!” E. wasn’t joking! At a restaurant called Portofino, I watched in bemused amazement while she shovelled down two entrees, a gigantic main course with vegetables, and a salad on the side. Following that, she dragged me a short way along the street to ‘Death By Chocolate’ and consumed a mountainous dessert. Afterwards, she kissed me softly on the cheek and thanked me…’for everything’. “Come on,” she grabbed hold of my hand after I settled the bill, “it’s too early to go home yet, let’s walk!” I looked at my watch. It was after 11.30, on a weeknight too, but the whole of Mission Bay was humming. ‘You’ll be like death at 5.00am!’ I thought to myself, but shrugged mentally and said nothing. E. was happy, perhaps happier than she had been for months, and I wasn’t about to be a Jeremiah. To the two and a half million Kiwis who don’t live in Auckland, it is a prick of a place. Overcrowded and gobbling up good farming land at a frightening speed with its maniacal expansion; crime-ridden; polluted and with nightmare traffic, Auckland is universally despised, and grudgingly envied for its wealth and power. But on a balmy late autumn night, clasping his sister by the hand as we strolled along, this ‘Other New Zealander’ thought the place was pure magic! We made our way towards Kohimarama and St Heliers Bay, not saying much, just enjoying each other, the sound of the sea and the twinkling North Shore lights from across the harbour. Just after we passed the Tamaki Yacht Club at Kohi, E. took it into her head to revert to childhood behaviours and walk along the top of the metre-high wall that separates the sidewalk from the sea. No problem! Although the surface is very uneven, she only tripped in the dark and nearly fell into the waves four times in all. I just walked alongside her, mentally apologising to all the other strollers for the mental retard I was with. “Would you come after me if I fell in?” “In your dreams!” “But, you’re happy to have me up here so that you can look up my skirt at my knickers!” “I am not!” “Oh yes you are! I’ve seen you hunching down so that you can see!” “Bullsdust! I’m not even interested!” This was an out-and-out lie. No red-blooded male could possibly be uninterested in those gorgeous legs just inches from his shoulder, and what lay hidden between them at their apex. “Oh yes you are…!” She tripped and almost went over the edge for the fourth time. This time I did get a flash of white covered backside as she wavered on one leg, trying to regain her balance. I caught her wrist and steadied her. “Ok, you win, kiddo, I confess…I have been trying to look up your skirt for ages! But dammit to hell, either you’re not tall enough or I am not short enough, and I haven’t been able to see a thing…” “Ohhh! Poor Richie! How about this?” E.’s white panties picked out in the headlights of passing cars as she faced me and raised her skirt up high drew forth a chorus of tooting car horns. Plus a sudden screech of brakes as the driver of a Ford Escort slowed too quickly and almost had a Nissan FWD climb up his tailpipe. I simply stared at her, dumbstruck by this crazy woman. Then just for good measure, she spun around, bent over and flipped her skirt up at the back. More traffic chaos ensued, which galvanised me into action, grabbing her around the waist and bringing her down to ground level before she caused a serious accident. Laughing like a loon, E. spun in my grasp, threw her arms around my neck and planted a huge kiss on my mouth. Before I knew it, I was responding, The whole of Auckland disappeared. Rangitoto, the sleeping young volcano out in the harbour that will one day explode and wipe half the city off the map, could have done its thing there and then, and we wouldn’t have noticed. Don’t ask me how long that kiss lasted; I have no idea. All I remember clearly is that when we finally broke apart, E. gazed into my face earnestly and murmured, “I’ve taken time off for the rest of your stay. I want to go home now.” We were in two cars. Of course, E. knew the way off by heart and drove like a maniac because she was in a hurry. Of course I got caught by a set of traffic signals and lost sight of her. Of course I took a wrong turning and ended up most of the way to the airport before I realised my mistake. And of course, after a further confusing series of wrong turns, nearly an hour later when I let myself into the flat with the key she had given me, the whole place was in darkness. Quietly, so as not to disturb her, I went to the bathroom to take a leak and clean my teeth, and then crept to my room. I was just about to climb into bed when she opened the door behind me. She had on her silk pyjama top, which covered her down below her hips and underneath that, just her panties. She was simply breathtaking! My manhood swelled erect in my underpants, seeking her. “I was wondering if you’d headed off to K-Road…” “You lost me and then I lost me even more…” She came up close to me. I took hold of the silk material just above the top button and rubbed it between my finger and thumb while we searched each other’s eyes for decisions. I could feel the glow of her body on my knuckles. “I wish you weren’t so married to those damned farms,” she sighed. Then my sister took hold of my wrist and led me to her room. “Undress me Richie…” Propped up on one elbow beside her, I watched my fingers undo the buttons on her pyjama top. I finally parted the material and revealed her perfect little breasts. “You really like them, don’t you…I can see it in your face…” “They are beautiful!” I breathed. “You are beautiful!” E.’s breasts really are, diminutive, rounded, tip-tilted perfection. Any pubescent young teenager would be inordinately proud of them. My sister’s breasts just have not developed much beyond that stage. “May I kiss them?” “Please…but be very careful, you know how sensitive I am…I love it, but I don’t want it to happen like that again tonight.” Although I was extra careful, E. came so close so quickly, she had to push me away. But before she did, her nipples swelled like ripe plums in my mouth. “Go down on me, Richie…please…you were so wonderful last time…” By the time I had kissed my way down past her navel to her pubic tuft, my sister already had her panties halfway down her legs. I helped her take them right off, then plunged between her spread thighs; drinking her juices; revelling in her musk; teasing her clitoris with my tongue and exploring every millimetre of her, even into the sharp-tasting crack of her buttocks. Writhing fingers grasped and tangled in the undersheet. Soft pleasure sighs, sharp intakes of breath and liquid noises were the only sounds to break the nighttime silence. Seven times, taut as a violin string, she stopped me when she was right on the edge and seven times I aroused her again. The last time, she almost lost it, but pulled me away just in time. “Richie,” she gasped, “do you think we could possibly make believe…?” In our hearts, I took my sister’s virginity and she wept tears of joy. It was my ‘first time’ as well, just as it would have been years before. And we climaxed together…utterly lost in each other…better late than never. Better Late Than Never Ch. 2 _________ The song ‘You don’t know what love is’ written by Don Raye & Gene dePaul. The Cassandra Wilson CD is ‘Blue Light ‘Til Dawn’ (Blue Note)…in a word, fabulous…get it. K-Road (Karangahape Road) is one of the two red light districts in Auckland City.